The sound of a door slamming jerked Link from his sleep, his head hitting the sash above him. Letting out a curse, he rubbed the back of his head, muttering softly about his poor choices in beds. He had fallen asleep by the window.

Glancing out the window, he saw Malon stalk outside, her every movement filled with suppressed anger. Great Farore, he prayed silently. Please give me the strength to face her again, especially in that mood. He let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. I'd rather face a thousand hordes of monsters than speak to her in a foul temper.

Rising from his seat, he winced as he worked out the cricks accumulated from the night. He straightened his clothing, about the only thing he could do to make himself look slightly more presentable. Running a hand through his hair, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for the confrontation that was sure to arise.

Before facing the danger outside, he pilfered some bread and milk from the kitchen. By the glares he received from the staff, he was sure their argument last night had not gone unnoticed. Giving one glowering maid a hearty smile, his cheeks stuffed with food, he grabbed his coat and made his way to the stable.

Early morning light washed over the complex, the gray illumination casting long shadows over the ground. A fine mist had sprung up, the ghostly tendrils coiling around the buildings, a lost cloud trying to touch the earth.

Lanterns and watch fires still burned, lighting the way for him as he walked to the stable. Inside the dark structure, he made his way cautiously to Epona's stall. If he could sneak the two of them out of here without meeting Malon, he would thank the goddesses on bended knee for the rest of his life.

Seeing Malon saddling a horse near Epona's stall, Link thought, Well, there goes that hope. Heaving a silent sigh, he stroked Epona's face as she greeted him. What did you do now? she asked him, her keen eye focused on Malon as she vigorously groomed a blue roan gelding, the horse looking like he wanted to sidle away from her harsh brush strokes, but not get too close to Link and Epona.

I only want to protect her, he thought to the mare.

You mean you want to protect yourself, she said shrewdly.

Link gave her a glare. Not bothering to respond, he quickly brushed her off, all the while keeping his back to Malon. After he finished saddling Epona, he led her from the stall, his hope sinking when he heard an extra pair of hooves following.

Out in the yard, he mounted and finally turned to face Malon, who was astride the aggrieved roan. "What do you think you're doing?" he said, keeping his voice low to hide the emotion that was building.

"What does it look like?"

"You can't follow me."

Malon cocked her head, challenge blatant in every line of her body. "Why not? How are you going to stop me?"

His hand clenched the reins. This is not what he had in mind. "What about your duty here?" he said, knowing this was his best argument. Malon loved the ranch, would give her last breath to ensure it would survive and her horses would be happy.

"Papa has more than enough help," she said, her eyes narrowing. She knew he was going to try anything to keep her back, and she refused to let him. "I know you're doing something about the Cataclysm," she continued. "If I can find a way to help you prevent such a thing from happening again, we can start to rebuild our land, perhaps bring back a system of government to the people. What better way to protect my home? Staying here, holed up, in constant fear of another bandit raid or Cataclysm, what good does that do?"

"You can't come with."

"Dammit Link! Why not? Do you think I'll hold you back, that I'm too weak to be of any aid? Do you hate me this much?"

Say yes, instructed his practical half. "No," he said quietly, his eyes focused on an enthralling patch of dirt between Epona's ears.

"Then why?"

Stupid weakling, he thought to himself. You deserve what happens to you. "Because I don't want you to be hurt."

Malon looked like she was expecting more. "That's it?"

"What more did you want?" he said, giving her a sideways glance.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I just thought there was something more, that you were mad at me for some reason. I thought I did something to offend you."

The absurdity of it all made him laugh. "What's so funny?" Malon demanded.

"Nothing," said Link, holding back his slightly hysterical laughter. His face sobered. "I can't convince you to stay, can I?"

She shook her head. "I won't let you do this on your own."

Well this is an interesting turn of events, Epona interjected. Does she even know how to fight?

A question he was wondering himself. "Malon, do you have any way of defending yourself? I can't spend all my time protecting you."

She bristled at his words. "I can take care of myself, thank you." She pulled out a pair of stick-like objects, each capped with a sickle on one end. Kamas, he thought, recognizing the weapons. Ones Zora usually prefer. Interesting.

"Yes, I know how to use these," Malon said, replacing the weapons. "I've trained with them since the Cataclysm, and they've saved my life a time or two."

A depressing thought, he mused. Hunching his shoulders to ease a muscle cramp, he turned Epona to the open gate. "So I can go?" Malon asked, her voice full of hope.

"It seems I can't stop you."

Malon urged her horse next to Epona, who watched him with wicked amusement. No ideas, he told her. She tossed her head, an equine equivalent to a shrug. "Where are we headed?" Malon asked.

"Kakariko. I need to restock my supplies."

"Let's go then," she said, urging the roan into a trot. "Time to head out."

I think she's enjoying this too much, Epona said, picking up a canter to catch up.

"Let her have fun while she can," he murmured. "Who knows what tomorrow will bring?"

* * *

Slinging the saddlebags onto the scarred table, Link sat down beside Malon, who was watching the scenery around her avidly. "Will you quit that?" Link hissed.

"Quit what?"
"You look like a sightseer. You'll attract every thief's attention for miles. Try to act like you're used to everything."

Malon shrugged and took a sip from her tankard. "Blegh," she said, making a face. "That has got to be the nastiest ale I've ever had."

"You should try the Dancing Man's fare. That stuff will kill a moblin."

"If it's anything like this drink, I'd believe it. Are Epona and Phooka all right?"

Link nodded. He bet the two horses were having better luck with their food than they. "I'm going to get something to drink."

"Avoid the ale," she said with a snicker.

Link strode to the bar, the Kakarikean tavern almost completely empty, despite the fact it was evening, usually the busiest time for any dining business. I doubt the food kept them all away, he thought.

A grizzled man stood behind the counter wiping clean glasses. His clothing was more suited for hunting than bartending, and he wore a patch over his eye, a continuing scar visible above and below the leather piece. "Whaddya want?" he ground out to Link.

"Beer, if you have any."

The man eyed him closely. "Aye, we do." He filled the glass in his hand from the keg and placed it before Link. "That'll be two rupees."

Link fished out the proper amount from his wallet, ruefully noting how light it was becoming. Placing the money on the counter, he started to pull his hand back when the other man grabbed it, moving with a speed Link thought him incapable of.

Before Link could react, the man pulled up the sleeve of his left hand, exposing a small tattoo on the inside of his wrist, the design a zoomorphic knot of an owl, a lion, and a bull. Link snatched his hand back, his other reaching for the sword at his waist. "Peace," said the bartender, holding up his hands. He pulled his own sleeve back, showing Link an identical marking. "I thought you had the air of a Hunter."

"Who're you?"

"Name's Tarragon, come from the Eagle division."

"Why are you acting as a barkeeper?"

"Got reports from here that there've been Poe sightings in the village. Plus someone's swore they spotted a Wraith."

"You're going to need more than one person to take on a Wraith," Link said.

Tarragon nodded. "We've others stationed throughout here, though no villager knows it." He gave Link an appraising glance. "You think you could offer any help?"

Remembering his light wallet, he said, "How much is the bounty?"

"Five hundred rupees if one person catches the Wraith, that amount split if any others help. Poes are worth an extra fifty."

"I'll see what I can do." Taking his mug, he walked back to the table. He nursed his drink while Malon continued to watch the people despite his advice, her eyes alit with excitement. After a while, he said, "Can you check in at the inn by yourself?"

"Huh? Oh, sure, that's not a problem." Suspicion suddenly reared its ugly head, and she said, "Why? Aren't you coming along?"

"I've got something I need to do," he said, fixing her with look that told her not to ask.

Not wishing to push her luck any further, Malon blew out a hard breath. "Fine, it's taken care of. Just come back quickly, all right?"

Link nodded, giving her a relieved smile. He watched her leave before emptying the saddlebags on the table. Rope, a large bundle of throwing knives, poison tipped darts, arrowheads, and a pair of mangled gloves were among the vast assortment of weaponry and items he removed. None of this will work against the dead, he mused, studying his gear. Oh! Memory hit him, and he pulled off the leather pouch that hung from his belt. Inside was a small vial of clear liquid, the crystal container reflecting light off its faceted surface. A gift from Saria when he left the Wood. She had told him it was dew collected within the courtyards of the Forest Temple, the wellspring of all life, and its properties allowed it to cure poisons and abolish the dead.

Exactly what I need, he thought. Picking up the arrowheads, he studied them. They should work. If I dip the metal into the liquid, the arrow will carry the panacea to the Wraith and banish it to the shadow realm where it belongs. Now I just need to buy a bow. Too bad I lost the last one to that fire drake by Death Mountain.

Wondering if any shops were still open, he packed up his gear and left the inn, the weight of Tarragon's gaze heavy on his back.

* * *

Running an appreciative hand over the satin-like feel of the wood, Link picked up the unstrung recurve bow, testing it's balance. The simple design, much less complicated than a compound or crossbow, was familiar to him. He'd practiced with this style of bow for hours at the palace.

Squashing the emotions that rose up from that thought, he strung it, plucking the string like a musician listening for off-key notes. Satisfied, he drew the finely woven thread back to his chin, pulling back the limbs of the bow, checking its flexibility and resilience. Wonderful piece of weaponry, he thought, releasing his draw. But how much will it cost?
He scanned the interior of the cramped shop once more, trying to discern some form of life amidst the gloomy interior. The sign by the door read "Diderick's Armory and Hunt Shoppe," but Diderick was no where to be found. "Anyone here?" he called into the darkened back. There seemed to be a door behind the counter, perhaps leading to a storeroom. Maybe the owner was there.

Moving to the dusty countertop, he set the bow beside the dozen arrow shafts he'd picked up. Hopefully he wouldn't need so many for this hunt, but the fletched wood was of unusual quality, like the bow. He didn't want to miss an opportunity to buy finely made goods for once.

Drumming his fingers on the splotched counter, he tried to peer inside the backroom, visible through the crack left by the ajar door. He couldn't detect any movement or sound whatsoever. There is another way, said a soft voice, twining around his thoughts like a seductive perfume. No, he told it firmly, clamping down hard on the wayward idea. I'd rather steal them.

He turned around, leaning his back against the counter. Folding his arms over his chest, he let out a sigh. He'd wait all night, if he had to.

Suddenly a soft whisper of movement told him of the approach of a stranger. Link whirled around, drawing his sword at the same time, steel shining dully in the mournful light.

"Very nice," said an appreciative voice, coming from the man Link held at sword-point. He stood behind the counter, the tip of Link's blade even with his heart. His burly physique and hairy body was strongly reminiscent of a bear's.

"You always sneak up on potential customers?"

"O' course. How else do I know if they're worthy o' my equipment?"

Link withdrew his sword, sheathing it. "You could get yourself killed."

"Maybe. Maybe not. Don't matter either way." Diderick waved a hand at the bow and arrows. "You think you're worthy o' that? 'Tis one o' my finest pieces."

"Would you like another test?"

Diderick ran a finger over the bow's yew limbs. "Nah, you already did that. What are ye t'use it for?"

Link fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I was told a Wraith had been spotted. I need the bow to expel it."

"A bow against a Wraith? Hunter ye may be, but even so, arrows aren't effective."

A quirked eyebrow was all the surprise Link allowed to show. So the man was more observant than he had given him credit for. Or he was a Hunter himself. "If I fail, what does it matter to you?"

"Spit, but it may end up costin' me that lovely bow."

"You have my word I'll defeat the demon."

Through narrowed eyes, Diderick seemed to consider Link's offer. "All right, then. We've a deal." He thrust his hand out for Link to shake, and Link obliged, the appendage feeling more like a slab of meat than hand. "Ye can have the bow for free, if ye give me a cut o' the reward."

Link nodded. "A bargain, in my case, for such a piece of work. Thank you."

"If ye can rid us o' the Wraith, 'tis us need thanking ye."

A wan smile flitted over Link's face. Giving the man a nod, he left the quiet, empty shop, exiting into Kakariko's equally deserted streets. Soft moonlight washed over the land, deepening the shadows that clung to every surface. The heavy scent of rain and ozone filled the air, heralding the approach of a late-summer storm.

Finding a corner, lit by the only working streetlight in town, he immersed himself in the cold glow. Sitting down on the hard ground, he began to prepare the arrowheads, dipping the black iron into Saria's elixir. The liquid turned the metal a shimmering gray, like starlight reflected on midnight water.

Satisfied with his handiwork, he bound the arrowheads to the newly purchased shafts, making sure the rawhide was pulled tight. Slipping the arrows into the quiver strapped on his back, he strung the bow. Ready, he stood, adjusting the quiver so he could reach the arrows easily and swiftly. Now if I was a Wraith, where would I hide? he mused.

Remembrance from his last visit here brought to mind the image of a graveyard. Kakariko had a small, derelict cemetery at the back edges of its boundaries. An ancient site; no one had been buried within its walls for centuries. Remus, his history teacher, had told him it was the resting ground for loyal servants of the Royal family, a sacred place for the brave to lay their bodies as their souls entered the spirit realm.

A cold, wet wind blew up, bringing with it the first patters of rain. Watching the ground darken with each plop of water, he shivered. He hated cemeteries, always had, always would. When he was a child, he remembered running from rooms at the first hint someone would tell a ghost story. An endless source of shame, the phobia had lessened since his childhood days, but had not left him. Now that I know there are greater, more terrifying things to worry about than the dead, you'd think I'd be over this fear, he thought wryly, his feet starting to eat the distance between him and the graveyard.

At the end of the dirt lane he now walked, the rusting gates of the graveyard blocked any further procession. Weeds poked out from between the iron rails, their grassy heads nodding to the beat of the rain upon them. He doubted anyone had cared for the graveyard since the Cataclysm.

Climbing over the rickety fence, he landed easily on the hallowed ground. High bluffs made natural walls for the cemetery, their soaring heights hidden by roiling clouds. A small shack stood to his right, once a caretaker's hut. Judging by the cracked windows and falling roof, no one lived within its confines any longer.

A sharp crack of thunder filled the air, startling him. Idiot, he chided himself. You're not a little boy anymore. Straightening his shoulders, he drew his coat closer to him, wishing once more that he had remembered to attach a hood to it.

Tombstones filled the plot, some tilting crazily, as if they'd lost all sense of balance, others almost hidden behind the tall weeds. He found what remained of a path that wound its way around the markers, the broken tile barely perceptible though the grass. He followed the path, not willing to risk accidentally stepping on a grave.

He drew an arrow from his sodden quiver, nocking the missile to the string. The Wraith could appear at any moment, and he knew it would. The ghosts were always drawn to the dead, and having a potential victim wandering in their playground was too good an opportunity to pass up.

A pale wash of light flared up, the glow scattered by rain and the skeletal branches of a withered tree. Drawing his bow, Link peered past the sheets of rain, spotting a translucent figure rising from the earth, and he sighed. Only a Poe, not the true quarry he sought. He could feel the ghost's gaze upon him, the lantern of werelight it held in one hand swaying in the wind. Hiding a shiver, he thought, I hate ghosts, I hate dead things, I hate rain. Who's bright idea was this, anyway?

Keeping a wary eye on the Poe, he continued his walk around the cemetery. If he caught the attention of the Poe, than the Wraith should follow soon. A sharp sound, brought by the rising wind, reached his ears, and he stopped. Frowning, he strained to catch the noise. It rose up again, the clamor unmistakable.

Link took off in a run, surprising the Poe as he swept past. Vaulting the gate easily, he followed the screams into Kakariko. Seems the Wraith found a more suitable target, he thought grimly.

Bow still in hand and ready to fire, he dashed into a scene of hellish confusion. A building was on fire, the flames low and guttering, thanks to the rain. People milled in the once deserted streets, fear apparent on their fire-lit faces. He saw a familiar form race up to him, and he mounted swiftly. Where is it? he mind-sent to Epona, intent on finding his prey.

It's taken a boy and a woman, she said, picking up a gallop as soon as he was settled. It's headed back to the graveyard.

Dammit! he cursed silently. I should've stayed there.

No time for regrets. Focus!

Heeding her words, he wrapped his fingers in Epona's sopping mane. He was used to riding bareback, but the rain made her hide sleek and keeping a seat difficult. Seeing the gate rushing up to meet them, he threw the bow around his neck, and tightened his legs around her girth, body leaning forward in anticipation.

She rose over the fence easily, the distance a mere inconvenience to her. The cemetery was now awash with Poe lanterns, their unholy light adding to the scene before him.

The Wraith, it's transparent body more like a shadow writhing in agony than any other shape, hovered in the back of the graveyard, two human forms between it and Link's already nocked arrow. Their faces were hidden by the backlight of Poe lanterns, but he recognized one right away.

Anger colored his thoughts. He fought the urge to charge forward, releasing the demon's hold on his friend. Epona shifted underneath him, reacting to his churning emotions. Calm yourself, he commanded his mind. You'll awaken more than you wish if you don't stop.

Inhaling a deep lungful of moist air, he urged Epona closer to the congregation of spirits. "Let them go," he said over the pounding of the rain.

The Wraith tipped his head, eerily reminding him of a puppy. While the Poes rarely showed signs of intelligence, that feature was what made the Wraith so deadly.

The demon seemed to size him up, the roiling cloud that composed it like smog cloying in the air. Acting without warning, the Wraith grabbed hold of the young boy's neck and turned the child's head to face its own.

Realizing what it planned to do, Link drew back his arrow, sending a silent prayer to any deity willing to listen, and released. The missile flew straight, sinking into the Wraith's form despite all sense of physics or logic.

The demon howled in pain, releasing its physical and mental hold on its victims. He saw the woman wake up, assessing the situation before she grabbed the boy's hand and ran. She always had a quick reaction time.

Link allowed himself a smile before focusing back to his task. The arrow had only wounded the Wraith, the shot passing through one of its extremities. The elixir needed to hit a vital area, one where the panacea would have time to abolish the anomaly.

The Poes hovered nearby, unsure of how to act. No one had ever hurt a Wraith before, not in their presence. They were dead, but the human instinct of self-preservation still clung to their beings.

Lacking the Poes' weakness, the Wraith charged it's enemy, its form lost swiftly once it left the pool of lantern light. Biting back the urge to curse, Link kept his head, waiting for any signs of the Wraith. He heard the warning shout from the woman just before the Wraith wrapped itself around him, the sudden chill that invaded his body stealing his breath.

He vaguely felt Epona dart off in surprise, the attack taking her unexpectedly and leaving him to fall to the earth. His lips quirked in a smile. At least she couldn't gloat that she had been ready, like the last fight.

The Wraith tightened its hold on his body, the ghoul searching for some opening in his mind, ready to pour its spirit in and replace his. Wraiths hunted their prey like this, finding victims, stealing their souls and replacing them with their own. Then the demon had a body to control, to use in order to find new prey when the body decayed to rotten meat. The demons ate the dead flesh from within, like unholy parasites.

You can have this body if you really want it, he thought bemusedly, his mind not entirely coherent under the onslaught. But you might not like what you get.

The Wraith, spotting the chink in Link's mental armor, attacked. He bit back a howl of pain as a sense of invasion and wrongness swept his body. He tried to force his hands to work, to shove the arrow into the demon's form, but his limbs failed to heed him. Panic rose up, the raw emotion sweeping away all sense of thought. Let me go! he howled at the Wraith, his mental cries calling up a part of him he feared more than death. If this continued, all control would be lost.

The Wraith, sensing the beast it was riling, hesitated. Suddenly the demon released its hold, the monster writhing in agony. Link dropped to his knees, breath coming in ragged gasps. He looked up to see the Wraith skewered by one of his arrows, the elixir working perfectly. The demon evaporated into the shadow realm, the used arrow falling to the ground.

Gathering his shaky muscles, he stood slowly. A group of fighters now filled the cemetery as they fought off the remaining Poes. Cavalry finally rode in, he thought dazedly.

Are you uninjured? Quiet concern filled Epona's words, along with a sense of loss.

Fine, he told her, leaning onto her shoulder. His legs felt like limp noodles. It wasn't the Wraith that hurt me.

I know, she said, the loss peaking. He could understand her feelings, even if he refused to share them.

Are they all right? he said, motioning to the two victims.

Better than you. Malon's not happy, but she'll survive. The boy passed out a while ago, but he's breathing.

"Seems ironic, doesn't it? As soon as I accept company, she's attacked and nearly killed."

The irony was lost on Epona. I'd like to know where all these people came from. And why didn't they help earlier?

Link didn't care. All he wanted was a stiff drink and a chance to sit down. The man from the bar, Tarragorn, entered Link's field of vision. So this must be the band of Hunters he was talking about, Link mused.

As if hearing his thoughts, the man turned in Link's direction. Making his way over, Tarragorn said, "You all right, boy?"

Boy? he thought, bristling slightly. "I'm fine, just tired."

"Amazing that you'd actually take on a Wraith by yourself," Tarragorn said. "You'd be dead by now if we hadn't shown up."

Hardly, Link snorted to himself. A Wraith can't kill me, but perhaps it's best if you think so. "Thank you," he said, swallowing his pride.

Tarragorn nodded his head. "Can't risk losing more of our kind. You got courage, kid, even if it's stupid courage."

Epona laid her ears back, her teeth baring in a look of pure equine disdain. She didn't appreciate the man's tone anymore than he did. "Are Malon and the boy all right?" he asked again, for Tarragorn's sake. He had a feeling Epona wanted to sink her teeth into the bartender.

"Aye, they're fine, if a little shook up. You want to see them?"

Link nodded, following the man. Epona stayed close to his side, her tail twitching in the dying rain. To think! she yelled. You! An amateur! That's an insult to me, as well as you!

Hiding a smile, he said to her, I know, but the less they think of us, the better it'll be. We won't have another run-in like we did in Azhira.

Damn Gerudos are too suspicious, especially in that town. She sighed, her anger fading. People are so thick.

All the better for us.

"Link!" He looked up to see Malon running towards him. She plowed into him, her arms wrapping around his waist like a vise. He chuckled slightly at her display. She bounces back better than rubber, he thought.

"Are you all right?" she said, worry in her blue eyes.

"Shouldn't I be asking that?" he said with a tired grin.

"Bah, I'm fine, so's the kid. I don't even remember the demon catching me, and I feel the same as usual. But you, you look like a moblin ran over you, backed up and stomped on you again."

"Love the analogies," he said. "I'm all right, just tired."

"You're lucky you're even that," said a voice from behind him, the arrogance and disdain clearly apparent in his tone.

Link didn't bother to reply, instead giving the new man an assessing gaze. He was tall, his long, red hair caught in a low tail, pushed behind rounded ears. A Gerudo, judging by the dark skin and sharp features. Lithe frame filled with corded muscle, the man was Hunter through and through. "You actually thought you were equal to a Wraith?," the man sneered.

No, I'm above them, he thought, wisely keeping his words to himself.

Malon did not share his skill of restraint. "Who do you think you are?" she snapped.

"Your savior, Ganondorf," he said with a mock-bow. "And what a pleasure it was to rescue someone of your beauty and grace."

Link tightened his hold on Malon, preventing her from striking at the man. "Let's head back to the inn," he said to her, hoping to divert her anger.

"Fine," she ground out, turning away from Ganondorf with difficulty. She gave Link an over-bright smile, saying, "Anything to get away from Mr. Sunshine."

The corner of his mouth turned up as he steered her out of the cemetery, Epona a silent shadow in their wake. "Do you often turn tail and run at confrontations?" Ganondorf said to their backs.

Link clenched his teeth, the Hunter's words finding a sore spot. Epona nudged him forward, already sensing his desire to turn back. Ignore the fool, she said. Unless you wish to stir up more than you already have.

Link blinked, surprised by her sensible thoughts. Normally she would be the first to knock the man on his face. Today was certainly an interesting one, that's for sure, he thought, leaving the cluster of Hunters to sort out their affairs. He planned on falling flat on the mattress as soon as he got to his room at the inn.

Escaping the cemetery and retreating into the haven of Kakariko's meagerly lit streets, they headed for the only burning lantern on the main road, the sallow light casting deepened shadows over the inn's brick face. A weathered, decrepit sign hung below the contained flame, the wood proclaiming the inn's name, the Crimson Peahat. A nonsensical name if he ever saw one, but if the inn had a clean bed, he'd overlook the fact.

After Malon headed inside to get the room numbers, Link made his way to the inn's back where the stables were located. A thick, high wall of hardened clay surrounded the inn, the structure riddled with cracks, telltale signs of haphazard mason work.

An opening in the wall allowed access to the courtyard behind the inn, and Link led Epona through. Watching his feet sink into the mud with each step he took, he noticed with some alarm at the way he had trouble moving in a straight line. Glaring at his disobedient legs, he forced them to move correctly. You're more drained than even I thought, Epona said to him as she moved closer to his side.

"Out of practice, I guess," he said, too tired to keep the conversation internal. If some stable boy happened to see him talking to his mare, than hopefully he'd be labeled a drunk.

And it will cost you your life one day.

"So?"

Epona sighed. Damned fool, she said. Soon she nudged him with her shoulder. Hey, wake up, we're here.

"Hmm?" He looked up from the ground, somewhat surprised to see the stable before him. I really need to sleep, he thought as he knocked on the closed barn door. Wish I could just walk into a stable like I used to, before all this began.

The door cracked open before widening to reveal a teenaged girl, bits of hay sticking up in her barley-colored hair. "You be needing a stall?" she said, tugging her grimy smock into place.

Link nodded, not bothering to speak. The stable girl reached up to take Epona's reins, but the mare shied away. "Why must you be so picky?" he muttered to her, grabbing her hackamore. Giving the stable girl a polite smile, he said, "I'll take care of her, just show me where she can rest."

She gave Link a wary glance, but allowed him to lead Epona into the stable. The low whickers of sleepy horses greeted the stable girl's approach. The peaceful calls soon turned into apprehensive snorts, the animals's restive movements becoming increasingly apparent. Why can things never be easy? Link thought, trying his best to ignore them.

The girl showed them to a stall in back, perhaps sensing, like her charges, that all would be happier if Epona was far from the rest. She hovered nearby, ready to show Link the location of grain or other implements to be used in settling Epona in. Link went through the motions in a daze, a fog of exhaustion clouding his mind. "There you go," he said to Epona once he finished, giving the chestnut mare a pat.

He didn't know if she said goodnight or not, but he didn't wait to be sure. Turning away, he found the stable girl right before him, her cautious eyes focused intently on him. "You won't hurt my friends," she said to him, referring to the horses in her care.

Link nodded. "I promise." He wasn't startled to hear her speak those words. The girl seemed to possess the instinctive skills of her equine companions, or had heeded the animals's warnings.

Satisfied with his reply, she left him to his own devices, probably to head back to her bed in the hayloft. Amused and a little pleased by the girl's trust that he would keep his word, he left the stable, his mind bent on the thought of a soft bed and long rest.

How he got to his lodging, he couldn't recall, but suddenly he was standing in an empty, unlit room, a key in his hand. Not in the mood to question how he got there, exhaustion probably the culprit, he set the key on the bureau beside the door. The wooden floor creaked under his weight as he walked to the inviting bed, a wan shaft of moonlight peeping through the window to light the way as best it could.

I don't care if it's clean anymore, he thought, stripping of his dirty shirt and letting it drop to the floor. I just want to sleep. Sitting on the bed's edge, he kicked off his boots and fell onto the mattress halfway, the woolen quilt itching his back. No matter how many times I sleep in a bed, I'll never take it for granted again, he thought, stretching luxuriantly.

Forcing his body to move, he sat up and moved to the head of the rather large bed. Large to his standards, anyway.

Peeling back the covers, he settled under the blankets, letting out a blissful sigh as his head rested on the soft pillow. Exhaustion hit him like Goron hammer, and he felt sleep begin to overtake him when an arm flopped over his side, followed by a warm body snuggling against him.

He froze, all trace of fatigue gone by a surge of adrenaline and embarrassment. He heard a distinctly female voice murmur into his back, her breath alternately warming and cooling his skin. Goddesses, what now? he yelped internally. Seeing only two choices: to either stay in the bed with this unknown woman, who most likely had a jealous and rather large husband, or try to sneak away before he was noticed, he decided the latter was a more appealing choice.

Edging slowly away from the sleeping form, he held his breath, praying to the goddesses that the woman would stay asleep. The mattress groaned from his shifting weight, and he paused, hoping with all his might that the noise didn't affect her.

Silence ensued, followed by a deep exhalation. Link let out a silent breath and continued to pull free. He had almost completely untangled himself from her embrace and was beginning to slip from the bed, when his knee hit the nightstand, the hardened oak sending a lance of pain shooting through his leg. He swore vehemently before he could stop himself, and he froze, one hand clasped over his mouth, the other rubbing his throbbing kneecap.

The bedroom remained quiet, to his disbelief, but he was never one to let an opportunity slip past. He stood up, favoring his leg while silently swearing every oath he knew at the wooden culprit. He was making his way to the door when something hit him, his assailant cloaked by the darkness, the moon unable to penetrate this far into the room.

An aching jaw adding to his pains, he reeled backwards and tripped over the bed, falling onto the mattress. If Epona could see me now, she'd be laughing herself hoarse, no pun intended, he thought ruefully. Before he could further contemplate how the mare would take to his being caught so off guard, a warm body fell onto him, most likely victim to the same demonic nightstand. He planned on burning the thing when he had the chance.

Pushing away the pummeling hands, Link caught the slender wrists in a tight grip, trying to save his body from more harm. The setting moon, as if to make up for its lack of aid before, peered out from behind a tattered cloud, the pale glow giving Malon's face an undead hue. Or perhaps that was her doing as her mouth hung open in astonishment, her eyes widened further than he had ever seen.

"Well, this is unexpected," he said, trying to break the tension.

"What in the dark realm are you doing in here?"

"I had the key, I assumed this was my room," he said as he released her wrists. "It was a bit of a shock to find it came with a complimentary female."

She smacked him on the head. "Pervert." Pulling away, she found the bedside candle and lit it. The sputtering tallow added a warm cast to the weak moonlight. "What now?" Malon said, self-consciously folding her arms over her chest. Her nightdress was a simple shift of cotton, and not in the least revealing, but he doubted that mattered to her.

"The keeper's not awake at this candlemark," said Link, keeping his eyes off her. "If it's all right with you, I'll steal a blanket and sleep on the floor."

"And make me feel guilty for keeping the bed."
"You had it first."

"Well I don't want to put you out," she said.

"What's your solution, then, oh wise sage?"
"You take the bed. You're the one who's the most tired and in need of sleep."

Link sighed. "I can't do that for the same reason you gave."

Malon flopped onto the bed. "This is getting us nowhere."

"We could both sleep on the floor," he suggested with a grin.

She gave him a sideways glare that was overtaken by a deep blush. That was one trait he loved about her, the way she'd turn the same shade as her hair. She hated it, saying it made her look like a tomato, but he found it endearing. "We could share the bed, if you don't mind," she said softly.

"What's that?" Link said, trying to stifle a smile.

"I said we could share the bed."

"Hmm?"

"You insufferable peahat! You heard what I said."

Link grinned. "That'll work, and never fear, virtuous maiden. Your honor is safe with me."

"Perish the thought," she said, tossing a pillow at his head.

He caught it and kept hold, ready to use it as a shield if more missiles flew. None came, and deeming it safe, he sat on the far side, Malon perching on the other. For a moment both hesitated, unsure of what to do next.

Taking a deep breath, Malon plunged under the covers, keeping as far to the edge as possible. Link followed suit, half uncomfortable and half amused by their actions. A long silence ensued before Malon let out a sigh and burrowed into her pillow. "'Night Link," she mumbled into her blankets, her voice thick with sleep.

"'Night," he said, his eyes on the falling moon outside his window. Perhaps having Malon along wasn't as catastrophic an idea as he first thought.

* * *